You're Gonna Make It

My Miracle Night from Oklahoma City to Holbrook, Arizona

Some of you reading this believe in miracles, some of you don’t. That’s okay. I’m not here to tell you what’s what. I do believe in miracles, and the night I left Oklahoma City was one. But if you don’t want to think of it that way, think of it how you want. But the night I went from Oklahoma City to Holbrook Arizona was a crazy miracle of a night.

I wanted to go back to Snowflake. My last sidequest of the whole trip was right in front of me. At this point of the trip, money was tight, and I just had enough for one more trip after Amarillo. I was at the point where I was going to need to start hitchhiking.

That said, I wanted out of Oklahoma to do it. Of all the states, the only one worse than Oklahoma is New York to hitch through. I wanted to avoid it. That said, I was on the route to where I needed to go. I was on old route 66 and I was catching a greyhound to Amarillo. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get to Snowflake. I had friends that were waiting for me, and some of them were a matter of timing. One of them, Lacy, lived in Phoenix. I told her I couldn’t promise to be there when she got there. Hitchhiking is a bit of a lottery and there’s no way to plan precisely what you’re going to do. Still, she said to me “You’ll be there.”

Now, the driver of my greyhound bus was terrible. He had one great moment of humanity when he let himself be taken with a picture of a little girl, but by the time we were almost at Amarillo, he was a cranky, miserable asshole. He barked at everyone after every stop about smoking, swearing and the like, even when no one was doing anything. It was terrible to listen to this man be so miserable and try so hard to share it with others.

We got to Amarillo. Now I don’t have too much to say about Amarillo as it turned out, I only ended up staying at the bus terminal, but Amarillo’s bus terminal was nicer than Okalhoma City’s, let me tell you. The staff was friendly, even at midnight. I told the one my story and told him of my attempt to go through, and he said “You’re going to make it.” I wasn’t so sure.

That said, I did have a little bit of a plan. This asshole of a driver didn’t read the tickets. All he cared about at midnight was that it scanned. So I decided to push my luck. I bought another ticket with the last of my money to the next stop, and I was going to ride the bus instead to Alberquerque. I bet that he wouldn’t care. Not gonna lie, I also took a little pleasure of karma when one of the passengers paid for their seat where the driver wanted to put his things, and made him put it under the bus when they wouldn’t budge from the seat. The dude was that surly and was easy to route against.

I got to the city I was supposed to go, and I was right. He didn’t look, or care. I was good, and in the clear, until I got to Alberquerque at least. There, I wasn’t so sure what was going to happen. A new driver was going to take over the bus, and I had no way to pay. Still, Alberquerque was a lot closer to my destination than Amarillo was. I had no plan beyond this, but I was ready to explore the city. When we got there at 4 am, that’s what I planned to do.

I should also mention before I continue the story, that my opinion of the bus driver was shared almost unanimously by the other passengers. At the end of the trip, he was told in no uncertain terms to shut up and fuck off. Every one was tired of this guy’s crap. Now I will say doing all this bussing that this guy was the worst. Most drivers are decent people, and the one I had later on (more soon) was amazing, in spite of the circumstances. But this guy from Okalhoma to Alberquerque may be the most miserable driver I’ve ever seen. He deserved what he got. Such as it goes.

I had about an hour before the bus departed from the station, and no one seemed to care that I was there, so I took the time to freshen up. I used the toilet, shaved, cleaned up after myself, and pondered the day in front of me.

Ten minutes before the bus was supposed to depart, the security found me.

“Hey man? You supposed to be on the bus?”

I wasn’t. I knew it. I lied here. “No man, my bus is tomorrow.” In all fairness, anything was possible between one day and the next, but I wasn’t going to pretend I had a ticket. I didn’t.

“Well there’s someone not there that’s supposed to be. You want to try to get on now?”

What did I have to lose? It never hurts to try. So I went up to the bus, and presented my ticket from the night, knowing it wouldn’t scan. I half lied. I said I was planning to go tomorrow. But I expected to be told that he couldn’t take me on.

The driver tried twice, and then shrugged. He read the ticket and the seat. I thought for sure I was screwed.

“Your seat’s sold, so you can’t ride there,” the driver said.

“You got another seat?” I asked.

“I do. Where you going?”

“Holbrook.”

“Welcome aboard.”

I’ll never know why he let me on. Maybe he was just being kind. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention. All I could say was thank you before finding an empty seat. I just couldn’t believe how far I went. I went from being unsure about Amarillo to going to Alberquerque to this. I was stunned. I went over 800 miles in 13 hours. I still kind of can’t believe it writing this.

But there I was. On the bus, catching a bit of a last minute sleep. Somehow, I had made it all the way back to Holbrook, and Snowflake was just a hop, skip and jump away. I was told over and over I was going to be there at this time, and they didn’t lie. I was there.

I made it. After nearly twenty years, I was back.